Secondhand Faith
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Draco doesn't believe that he's good person. Perhaps Luna has enough faith for both of them. Very light Druna.:: For Gamma.


A/N: For the lovely Gamma. Week six of the GGE. I meant for this to have a little more romance, but it didn't want to cooperate. I hope you enjoy!

"It would take a saint to set me free."- Emilie Autumn, Secondhand Faith

I.

She finds him in the library when all he wants is to be alone. Even with the whole wizarding world going to hell, Luna

Lovegood is still all smiles and innocent eyes.

"You're not as bad as you think," she says before Draco can tell her to sod off.

He blinks in confusion, trying to process her words. "Excuse me?"

"Ginny reckons you, but I don't believe you're hateful. Mostly, you're just lost."

"Who asked you?"

She doesn't answer. It's almost funny. For weeks, Draco has only wanted peace and quiet, refuge from everything life has thrown at him. Yet, with the strange Ravenclaw beside him, the silence is almost maddening.

"Why do you do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

"Say nonsense without even thinking."

Luna gives a quiet laugh. "It isn't nonsense," she says softly. "And I think a lot, but I only say what needs to be said."

Draco opens his mouth to speak, but the daft blonde slips off, disappearing behind a stack of dusty old books.

"Nutter," he mumbles to himself.

II.

He finds her slumped against the wall, her usually bright eyes dulled with pain. Draco wonders what Luna has done to make the Carrows curse her. Somehow, he doubts the punishment has fit the so-called crime.

Instinctively, he starts to reach out, but Draco quickly thinks better of it. Reputation is everything. His family's would be destroyed if he allowed himself to care. Besides, he can't fix anything; he can only destroy.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he ducks his head, hurrying away, trying to ignore those blue eyes that seem to burn into him as he retreats like a coward.

III.

"That's servant work!" Draco protests when his aunt tells him to take food to the prisoners.

It's an easy excuse. He's Draco Malfoy, a pureblood Slytherin. He's above such tasks and should not be treated as an elf. But the words don't quite ring true.

Luna is down there. The girl who had sworn that he's not a bad person is a captive in his house. Draco isn't sure that

he can face, knowing that he's just as guilty as all the others.

"And you're a servant of the Dark Lord," his aunt tells him coldly, slapping her palms against the table. "Go."

Deciding it's best not to anger the psychotic woman, Draco grudgingly grabs the tray before stalking off.

OoOoO

She sits beside the slumbering wandmaker, humming what might be a lullaby. With her dirty face and matted hair,

Luna is a mess. But she smiles when she sees him, and it seems to break through the dirt and grime.

"Oh, hello," she says, as though they've stumbled upon each other at a warm cafe and not a dreary cellar.

His mouth is too dry to return the greeting. Draco sets the tray onto the floor and turns away.

"It isn't your fault, you know," she calls after him.

He freezes. "I never said it was," he snaps.

Though his back is turned to her, Draco is sure that Luna is watching him with kind eyes and a soft smile.

"You didn't have to," she says simply.

OoOoO

He doesn't know why he sneaks down to visit her the night before he returns to Hogwarts, but Draco finds himself kneeling beside her sleeping figure. His trembling fingers brush through her ratted hair, grazing across her pale

cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

He knows that his words would do no good, even if Luna was awake. He can't right the injustice she's suffering. Still, it gives him a sense of freedom speaking the words out loud.

She had said that it isn't his fault, but Draco knows she's wrong. He hasn't done a damn thing to reach out, to try and be the good person she believes him to be. All he's done is live in the shadows, following along blindly.

IV.

He sees her battling two Death Eaters with a third swiftly closing in. Draco swallows down the urge to call out to her,

to lift his mother's wand and do something. His hand goes to his pocket, but a push from behind stops him.

"Keep moving," Crabbe grunts. "Potter went that way."

Since when has Crabbe called the shots? Still, Draco turns his back on Luna once again and marches forward.

"The Dark Lord will reward us," Crabbe says gleefully. "We'll be princes."

Draco wants to tell him he's wrong. He's learned the hard way that they're all pawns on the chessboard, and his master doesn't give a rat's arse about any of them.

V.

Draco sits on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, letting his feet dangle. How easy would it be to just drop, to let the ground shatter every one of his bones? Very easy, he decides.

He could do it, and it all and maybe find some peace at last. He's done more harm than good, and the world would never miss a former Death Eater when so many are still left.

"I prefer coming up here at night," a dreamy, dazed voice says in his ear. "It's much more relaxing. But I suppose it's

lovely in the daytime."

"Piss off, Lovegood," he growls.

"I hope you're not planning to jump. I imagine it would be quite painful."

"Why do you care? You, of all people, should hate me."

"I don't."

He sighs, hanging his head. "I would hate me."

"I'm not you. Others can't forgive you if you don't forgive yourself," she tells him, resting her slender hand on his

shoulder.

"I'm not a good person," he says. "I don't deserve forgiveness."

"I don't believe that."

"Why do you care?" Draco repeats, though his voice is no longer harsh a bitter, only lost and confused.

Instead of answering, Luna holds out her hand. Without a thought, Draco allows her to guide him back onto the floor.

His arms wrap around her, clinging to her as he lets himself break.

Her lips brush over his cheek, her hand trailing tenderly over his arm. "It's going to be okay," she assures him quietly.

It sounds as mental as any other of her bizarre theories, but Draco finds himself almost believing her.


End file.
